


i'm navigating blind (but maybe you can help)

by ThirtySixSaveFiles



Series: as the stars go [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship, Sci-Fi AU, the violence isn't that graphic but just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 10:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15816930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirtySixSaveFiles/pseuds/ThirtySixSaveFiles
Summary: Ryuji needs a way out of this town, preferably off of this planet. The stranger in the marketplace needs a part for his ship - and possibly a mechanic to install it. Their interests are, in professional terms, converging (and yes, Ryujidoesknow what that means).Or, theArsenepicks up its third crewmember in the form of one Ryuji Sakamoto.





	i'm navigating blind (but maybe you can help)

Ryuji is pocketing his change and biting into a fresh dewfruit when the exchange from the next stall filters in.

“No creds,” Glasno is saying, folding his big arms over his chest. “Local currency only.”

That’s - a load of radwaste, in this market money is money, and although most credcards out here are stolen Ryuji’s never heard a vendor turn someone  _ down _ unless it was personal. Glasno’s never been particular before - either about his customers or the parts he sells. Ryuji turns to catch the drama, sucking up a line of juice running down his thumb.

The guy on this side of the stall blinks, and pulls a credcard back. He flips it between his fingers; a nervous tic if Ryuji’s ever seen one, and he sure doesn’t look like he’s from around here, clothes a little too new and dark hair a little too clean to have kicked up from this town or even the next three. He might be from the cities; might even be from offworld, if that credcard is his own. Ryuji wonders what brings him all the way out here, to a second-rate market on a third-rate planet. Surely he had better choices.

The guy hesitates, then puts the chron accelerator in his hand back on the shelf and tucks the card away, shoulders drawing tight. As he turns to leave the little booth Ryuji can see the exhaustion writ large underneath the careful blank mask, and Ryuji does some quick math about available parts and new clothing and a fancy credcard and sighs, stepping forward.

“Quit giving the guy a hard time just ‘cause he’s new,” he says, digging in a side pocket for the remains of the payout from the Delgado job. He waves a small wad of cash in front of Glasno’s face. “You’ve been trying to offload that accelerator for weeks, so come on. Give.”

The guy stops, turning back slowly, like he’s waiting for the trap to spring, and Ryuji hates to see that look on anyone, let alone someone just trying to take care of his ship.

Glasno still hasn’t taken his money, although he is eyeing it interestedly. Ryuji shakes it at him.

“You got no reason to turn me down, man,” Ryuji says pleasantly. “Unless you don’t  _ want _ the money. I don’t mind spreading the word if that’s the case.”

Glasno’s eyes lift to somewhere over Ryuji’s shoulder, long enough that Ryuji almost turns and looks before he snorts and grabs the cash out of Ryuji’s hands.

“Fine. Word to the wise, though,” he says, slanting an obvious glance at the dark-haired guy who’s come a cautious step closer. “Kamoshida says no business with outsiders. I’m pushing it even with you.”

Ryuji feels his smile grow tight. “I didn’t think you gave a shit what that bastard says.”

Glasno shrugs. “I roll with the times. After Kamoshida it’ll be someone else. Better to have a reputation for staying in line if I want to keep my business.”

“Sure.” Ryuji picks up the chron accelerator and turns to leave. “Good luck with that.”

The dark-haired guy is still staring at him and Ryuji elbows him on the way past. “Coming?”

Ryuji makes it down the end of the row, finishing his dewfruit and wiping the excess juice off on his pants before he hears footsteps behind him rushing to catch up. The guy falls in step next to him as Ryuji turns down the center aisle.

“Are you.” The guy clears his throat and adjusts the bag on his shoulder. “Are you going to use that?” His eyes are fixed on the chron accelerator in Ryuji’s hands.

“Nah,” Ryuji says. “You are, man.” He extends it out and the guy’s hand reaches out, then draws back.

“What do you want for it?” His voice is steady but his gaze is intense, like he’s trying to figure out what makes Ryuji tick, what the right answer is.

“Well,  _ I _ got no problem taking your money if it comes to that,” Ryuji says. “But the way I see it, you’ve got a ship needin’ repair. I’m not too bad at that kind of thing. You’re not from around here, and I’m looking to not  _ be _ around here much longer, so I figure our interests are converging, kind of thing.”

The guy’s expression hasn’t changed, and Ryuji wonders if he’s misjudged this whole thing. He’s feeling kind of like an idiot, holding out the accelerator in the middle of a busy market street as traffic parts around them, when a small furry head pops out of the bag on the guy’s shoulder.

“We should take him on,” the - cat? It looks the like picture’s Ryuji’s seen - says. “You’re learning fast, but four hands are better than two and there’s only so much I can do with these paws.”

Ryuji blinks. He’s never seen one in person, but he’s  _ pretty _ sure cats don’t talk.

Nevertheless, he rallies. “Yeah, man,” he says. “What he said.”

That makes the guy smile, just the corner of his mouth turning up, and - it’s a  _ nice _ smile. Changes his whole face.

Ryuji coughs. “So - do we have a deal?” He waggles the chron accelerator.

The guy reaches out, long fingers brushing briefly over Ryuji’s as he takes it. He holds it carefully, close to his chest, like it’s made of glass and not synthsteel. He extends his other hand out.

“A deal,” he says, and Ryuji grins, wide and pleased.

“Awesome.” The guy’s hand is warm, his handshake firm. “I’m Ryuji Sakamoto. What do I call you?”

“Kurusu. I’m Akira Kurusu. This is Morgana. Welcome to the crew of the  _ Arsene _ .” He hunches one shoulder. “Such as it is.”

Ryuji blinks. “You’re - you’re running a  _ Phantom _ -class cruiser  _ by yourself? _ ”

“Hey,” the cat - Morgana - snaps. “I’m here  _ too _ , you know.”

Kurusu’s eyes narrow. “How do you know it’s a  _ Phantom _ ?”

“I told you.” Ryuji reaches out and taps the accelerator in Kurusu’s hand. “I’m not too bad at this kind of thing, and the  _ Phantom _ line burns through these crazy fast. I hear it’s better after the 400 series, though, so what’ve you got - 200? 300?”

Kurusu’s features relax, although his grip on the accelerator remains tight. “X300.”

Ryuji whistles. “An X-model, nice. Where are you grounded?”

“This way.” Kurusu nods toward the edge of the market, stowing the accelerator away in his bag, and Ryuji falls in step.

“Where’d you get - a cat, right?” Ryuji, peering around at Morgana, still perched on Kurusu’s shoulder.

Kurusu glances at Morgana and then back at Ryuji. “He came with the ship. Said it’s his home.”

“It  _ is.  _ I’m just letting you use it for a while,” Morgana says, clambering over to Kurusu’s other shoulder, giving Ryuji an evaluative look. “And I’m not a cat. I just look like one.”

“Then what are you?” Ryuji says, glancing back over his shoulder. He looks at Kurusu, who gives him the barest nod.

“I’m - that’s not important. And that’s rude to ask!” Morgana sputters, arching his back. He huffs and dives back into Kurusu’s bag. “Besides,” he says, muffled. “You two need to deal with the guys tailing you first.”

Ryuji had hoped it was his imagination.

“They after you, or me?” Kurusu says, barely loud enough to be heard over the hum of the marketplace.

Ryuji sighs. “Could be either,” he says just as quietly. “Could be both,” he adds as an afterthought. “I’m not what you might call popular with the local heavy, and you’re clearly not from around here.”

“Kamoshida,” Kurusu says, and Ryuji feels his face pull down in a scowl before he smoothes it back out.

“Got it in one,” he says, scanning the rows of merchants. There should be - there. “C’mon,” he says, ducking down behind a row of stalls. “This way.”

Kurusu follows him, and they slip down the narrow walkway between two rows of booths, sliding between canvas walls and pegged-down ropes and the rough walls of the more permanent installations. Ryuji’s boot catches on a cable snaking between two stalls and he stumbles, nearly careening through the back of a booth before a hand catches his shoulder, steadying him. Kurusu lets go again almost immediately, but the warmth of his hand stays, even in the midday heat.

Several quick turns and one swift dodge across a busy row later, Ryuji ducks into a dimly-lit alleyway between two of the lesser-used buildings on the edge of the market. He peers back around the corner as Kurusu fetches up around behind him, but there’s no sign of their pursuit.

“I think we lost ‘em,” he says, turning with a grin. “Now where’s -”

He sees Kurusu’s face first, and he looks  _ pissed _ , eyes flat and angry and hands held carefully away from his body. There’s no sign of the cat but there  _ is _ a large  _ shimmer _ in the air behind Kurusu, one that ripples and resolves into Kanada, and since  _ when _ did Kamoshida’s lackeys start carrying cloakers?

“Too predictable, Sakamoto.” Kanada grins unpleasantly over Kurusu’s shoulder, the barrel of a fancy radgun pressed to the back of Kurusu’s head. “You squeaked out this way last time.”

Yeah, and Ryuji  _ really _ hadn’t thought anyone had been paying attention. “What do you want?”

“It’s not what  _ I  _ want.” Kanada shifts his grip on the gun and clubs Kurusu against the back of the head. Kurusu collapses to his knees; he catches himself on his hands, so he’s not out of it completely, not yet, but Kanada’s advancing and Ryuji has nowhere to go but back, shoulders pressed against the cool stone of the storehouse and one of Kanada’s big hands around his throat.

“Mr. Kamoshida was very clear,” Kanada says, digging the barrel of the gun into Ryuji’s forehead,and Ryuji tears his eyes away from where Kurusu has lifted one hand to his head. “You want to work in these parts, you work for him. But that was too hard for you, huh?”

“Listen.” Out of the corner of his eye Ryuji sees Kurusu get slowly to his feet and take a wavering step backwards. If he leaves now, while Kanada’s occupied with Ryuji, he could probably make it out of the alley - it’d be the smart thing to do, and Ryuji doesn’t need anyone dying for his mistakes. He looks back at Kanada, hoping Kurusu will take his chance and  _ get out _ .

“Listen,” Ryuji says again. “You let me go and I’m gone, I’m out of here by sundown. Kamoshida gets what he wants, I never have to see this town again - so why don’t we just call it good and say this never happened?”

Kanada shakes his head mock regretfully. “Too late for that, Sakamoto. Kamoshida doesn’t just want you gone - he wants an  _ example _ .”

There are at least seven ways that’s just  _ radwaste _ , and Ryuji bares his teeth.

“Well  _ fuck _ him,” he spits, grabbing Kanada’s wrist and trying to buck him off. All it gets him is his head slammed back into the wall. His eyes cross for a moment. “And fuck - fuck  _ you _ too for lining up to do his dirty work.” Ryuji kicks out, but Kanada dodges him easily, and he’s - Ryuji goes cold as he realizes he’s going to fucking  _ die _ here, in a goddamned back alley in a town he hates -

“All’s well that pays well,” Kanda says. “You never did get that. Goodbye, Sakamoto.” There’s the whine of a radgun charging up and Ryuji squeezes his eyes closed. It’s not a great look, but he’s going to be dead in a second, so what does it matter -

The high-pitched discharge of a radgun firing sounds right in front of Ryuji’s face, and he winces.

Then Kanada’s hand loosens from around his neck, and there’s a weighty  _ thump _ in front of him, and he doesn’t  _ feel _ dead, but he’s never been dead before, so how would he know -

Ryuji blinks his eyes open. The first thing he sees is Kanada slumped over in the dirt of the alleyway, eyes wide and sightless and a neat cauterized hole in his temple.

The  _ second _ thing he sees is Kurusu lowering his  _ own _ gun. His face is pale but his hands are steady, and his eyes are on  _ fire _ .

He turns to Ryuji, tucking the gun back away. “Are you all right?” He extends his hand and Ryuji takes it, pulling himself upright.

“I - yeah, I’m - I’ll live, holy  _ shit, _ that was -” Ryuji gulps in air, making a conscious effort to shut his mouth, but the next part slips out anyway. “Why didn’t you run?”

Kurusu’s face closes off again - just a little bit, but Ryuji is starting to be able to tell the difference. “Bad habits, I guess.” He shifts backward. “You don’t have to -”

To hell with that. “You saved my life, Kurusu,” Ryuji says seriously. “If you think I’m not coming with you after  _ that _ , you’re out of your goddamned mind.”

A small but genuine smile starts on Kurusu’s face. “I think after that, you can call me Akira.”

Ryuji grins back. “Akira it is.” He steps carefully over Kanada’s body, pretending his legs aren’t shaking. “C’mon, let’s beat it before anyone else joins the party.”

It’s a short trip from the edge of the market to where the  _ Arsene _ is grounded, by the time they make it Ryuji’s heartbeat has just about returned to normal. It picks up again when he sees the Arsene, though, and Ryuji whistles again. The bold black and red lines sweep over the smaller day-skimmers and puddle-jumpers around it, and Ryuji’s palms  _ itch _ to see what the insides look like.

“Oh man, I still can’t believe you’ve been flying this  _ alone _ .  _ Ow _ ,” he yelps when Morgana takes a swipe at him. “Okay, okay - that the  _ two _ of you have been flying this alone. What is it you do, again?” Morgana glares at him and Ryuji raises his hands.

Akira snorts a laugh, and Ryuji lowers his hands, grinning. He gets the feeling that there hasn’t been much laughter aboard the  _ Arsene _ ; he can picture all too easily Akira piloting it alone - alone plus a cat - with that tense, exhausted stance he’d come into the market with. No wonder he looks tired.

Well, he’s got one more pair of hands, now. Ryuji’s always had a hard time turning away from wounded things, and whatever brought Akira out here - whatever he might be running from - it’ll have to get through Ryuji, too.

Replacing the chron accelerator is easy - Ryuji could do it in his sleep, and Akira probably could too - but they’re running on borrowed time so Ryuji doesn’t waste any, getting down on his back and sliding under the nav board. Akira sits in the pilot seat, handing him tools as requested.

“Where you headed next?” Ryuji asks. The old chron accelerator is dull and dead under his fingers, and Ryuji disconnect the wires one by one. He pulls it free and sets it on the deck next to him.

Akira’s voice turns distant. “I don’t know. I’ve been just kind of - I came here because it was far away. I don’t - don’t really have a plan.”

“Far away, huh.” Ryuji holds his hand out and Akira puts the new chron accelerator in it, holding on until Ryuji’s grasping it tightly. “Far away from what?”

“Home,” Akira says bitterly. “It’s - it’s a long, stupid story.”

“I doubt it’s stupid.” Ryuji connects the last of the wires to the new accelerator and grins as the impel drive starts spinning, throwing off sparks against the vacuum tube. He squirms out from under the nav board and sits up, blinking in the late afternoon sunlight. “But I’ve got some time, if you want to tell it.”

Akira eyes him consideringly, and Ryuji leans back on his hands. He’s quickly growing used to these evaluative glances, as if Akira is trying to judge which way Ryuji will jump, as if he’s waiting for the catch.

Sooner or later he’ll realize that there  _ is _ no catch, but Ryuji can be patient until he does.

“We should probably leave town first,” Akira says finally. “But like I said, I don’t - I don’t really have a plan.”

“No worries, man.” Ryuji reaches up, gratified when Akira takes his hand immediately, pulling him up. Ryuji squeezes his hand, and Akira tentatively returns the pressure.

Ryuji grins. “We’ll figure it out.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [ThirtySixSaveFiles](http://thirtysixsavefiles.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr and [@36SaveFiles](https://twitter.com/36SaveFiles) on Twitter!


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